An Endless Redundancy with Olly Woods
Much like a Dating Profile of mine, I am doubtful of the true costs of being part of some people's Community. What Agenda. Why must we engage...? Alas, most problems are caused, escalated, exaggerated and Calculated by engaging with near-enough anything. Why bother now...?
Good Question.
I am trying to bring Irreverence back, in the vain attempt to become at least... Heard. As Pitiful as that sounds, I'd rather not even have that from you for what it's worth, so that just shows you where I BLOODY STAND. Hopefully that example can express that I'm able to be more self-aware than some Comedic-Voices. That'll be a string in my bow. GUESS WHAT ELSE?! WHO LIKES IRONY! Bit sickly, but there's fucking loads of it, as I LITERALLY LEARN LIKE RAINMAN, MYSELF/my 'isms, and all we absorb within our Lifetime period. Maybe I ought to avoid phrases like that if I want you focussed, and honed-in to me. BUT, without engagement, we know bollocks and fuck and no less, just merely bullshit, so we all need some light/thought/another white-washed Bri'rish los(n not v, am not an emo joker rip)er, with a difference. NO. GAMING. CHAIR.
; W
hilst I make myself maniacally laugh, I've brought in a Microphone, and probably copies of things (not carrot top, but 'slyly' ginger in sunlight) that make me laugh, or to build upon in an attempt to share some (probably frail in your own shite opinion) bars of Originality, from a largely Impoverished/Out of work, Creative-Waste. "Waste...": I adopted that word/phrase (I already knew the word for objects, or rotten food) when I felt I was myself, and the S fights the M ; Forevermore discovering, uncovered idiocy, that frailly encapsulates my passion for Art, Humour, and.. clearly an (in)eminent element of what I don't understand. All running through me, like Wagyu-fat. Just... 25% fat content. Porky, porky, what a malarkey. Doesn't rhyme. Waste of mine. Time, fine, over-the-line. Half-rhymes hit, some of the time. More syllables, but less of what's mine. TIME.
(lost dramatic weight (/+wait to my sex life) recently, due to an existential crisis. Lovely to grieve, even in the bonds of love. Already losing my sense of humour.)
"This guy's rhyme is a waste of my time. I feel unsettled, but, then again... I believe in Ghosts." -A review I made up
"Actually.. Not bad." - Has been the general sentiment when I really offer original ways of creating humour to others, when it works- for them too -, when other times I'm immobilised by depression. I bring boasts of adolescent wonder at 27 years old, as I've been (in my opinion), an aspiring Comedian my whole little hole, life. (pBPDoe)
Avid Question answering may or shall commence whenever you see it fit to deem me worthy of recompence(/"pounds and eskimo pence") I MEAN, THAT IS USUALLY HOW BRITAIN SOUNDS, BUT HERE IS THE E-MAIL ADDRESS FOR YOU, 'BUDDY':
sermonofdoubt996222diddlyi@mailfence.com
An Endless Redundancy with Olly Woods
#3: Take a Bunch!
This week, I assume I'm going through withdrawal, because it's been fucking difficult to come up with fucking ANYTHING -Until I begin spilling the liquid diet from betwixt my lips. Very standard procedure self-doubt.
Plentiful is the oddballs that encompass who I am. Fairly poetic, that. As all of that sort of rubbish is subjective. Made ME cry. And as a man of 2024, I feel embraced by the integrity to funnel out some of the vitamins and minerals that were once proud to line themselves within my digestive tract, into the form of _____ energy. You're... welcome.
However, I'm gracious/ungracious-ly accepting of any feedback whatsoever, that isn't standardised practices of mundanity, as we are all accustomed to. So, any shite-talking is welcomed, under the surely innaccurate banner of, "Fan Mail". Unlike the comedy show I turned up to be very accurately tarred with the derogatory term of, "wanker", at - I'll most-likely be able to let it go. Like greasy dust in the wind. Or dust in the wind, that tastes vaguely of salt. Quite a guilty treat of mine.
And, if any of this isn't to your liking, or, to your liking, then I'd like to cordially invite you to quench your thirst for yet another demanding internet personality's attention, and engage with me. No pressure. Just be my fanciful fiancé, and bathe in a seemingly empty pool of engagement. IF YOU LIKE.
Share this, if'ins that's something you'd be willing to do. You have my explicit blessing. All in good, if not entirely perplexing fun.
Have a lovely day. Slán.
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"I never thought to say this originally, because I wouldn't like to lose myself in a Social-Vacuum-Esque Hellscape.
Purely if you think I have something to be understood, or anything of value...
Then, and, only then.
Be a Fan.
I'm opening up the idea of conversational ramblings. I think I'm naturally born reactionary, but instilled within silence. Don't be silent...? I'm a rational Human-Rights advocate, and I create my own kindness adverse to systems of Politics, wherever possible. However I'm Just not a fan of Tories. Irony, however... makes me look at Hugh Dennis differently. Like a Human. Not a Toffee. Or John Cleese. Or countless other wealthy Artists I, "couldn't possibly", relate to."
{Poddy e-mail address coming soon.}
